I shook my head, having no idea what to say to him at this point.
“This is bullshit!” Paul exploded, and I jumped in my seat, unintentionally flinching. He then barked out a harsh laugh. “Why am I even surprised? Seriously. Of course you got that stupid dance shit approved.”
Paul started to turn away, and I don’t know what exactly triggered in me, but my back stiffened as if a steel rod had been dropped down my spine.
This isn’t right.
The way he talked to me. The way he looked at me. This man didn’t have to like me, but he needed to respect me—respect my position and my authority. What had I told myself before? That I would not tolerate this. I was not the same nineteen-year-old Jillian who let people walk over her—who had been cornered by a guy before and had to be saved by Steph.
That was not me.
Oh hell no, I did not survive a gunshot wound to the motherfucking face for this dickless prick to speak to me like this.
“Paul?” I called out.
He stopped and turned, impatience written clearly on his face. “What?”
The hair along the nape of my neck bristled. There it was. That tone. It made my skin feel like it was stretched too tight. “Close the door and please take a seat.”
His eyes flashed. “I have a session about to start.”
“Please close the door and have a seat,” I repeated, refusing to allow him to excuse his way out of this. “Your session will have to wait.”
Paul hesitated for a moment and then he turned. I saw his lips moving, and I knew he was muttering something under his breath as he closed the door. He took his sweet-ass time making his way to the chair and sitting. He met my stare a bit belligerently.
I drew in a deep breath. “As you may have realized, I’m partially deaf. I can’t hear out of my right ear, but the interesting thing about losing a part of your hearing is that it forces you to pay attention to people when they’re talking. You have to follow conversations closely, watch their lips, and read their body language.”
Paul looked back at me like he was already bored with the conversation.
Clasping my hands together, I placed them on the table. “I don’t need to hear the words you mutter or purposely speak too low to know that you have little to no respect for me.”
A flicker of surprise widened his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You speak to me as if you don’t understand that I’m your boss.”
His lips thinned as he shifted in the seat. “Brock is my boss.”
“Yes and no. He’s your boss and I’m also your boss,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Especially when he is not here. You don’t have to like me. Not at all, but you need to respect me.”
A faint shade of pink colored his cheekbones. “I don’t know where you’re getting that I don’t respect you. I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
He was about to see “dramatic,” because my head was seconds from spinning full circle. “Do not gaslight me, Paul.”
Part of me wondered if he even knew what that meant. He inhaled roughly, flaring his nostrils, and a tense moment passed. “Respect is earned. It’s not given.”
I forced my expression to remain blank. “And how have I not earned your respect?”
“Your father owns this Academy,” he shot back. “And you’re sleeping with the boss. Exactly how have you’ve earned this job?”
Whoa.
He did not just say that to me.
Anger whipped through me. My first response was to fire him on the spot, right then and there, because even though I did need to talk to Brock before I decided to end someone’s employment, I was one hundred percent sure that he would back me on this.
But firing him was too easy.
“Let me explain something to you, Paul. I was born and raised in the Lima Academy. There is not one thing you know about this place that I do not. This is not just a job to me, but it is a part of my legacy. The blood that runs through my veins built this facility. If you had no problem with my uncle running this Academy, then you should have no problem with me,” I said as my skin prickled. “I don’t need to address your second comment, but I’m going to. Yes, I am going out with Brock. So maybe you should take that into consideration the next time you open your month and speak to me.”
The pink faded from his cheeks, and Paul paled.
“While Brock doesn’t make any concessions toward me because of our relationship, I’m pretty sure he and my father would not appreciate such insinuations, but most importantly, I don’t. This is the one and only time I’m going to have this conversation with you,” I warned, lifting my chin. “We can work together. We can continue to make Lima Academy a state-of-the-art training facility that includes an amazing opportunity that could expand my father’s dream. Or you can find another job. That’s your choice. Don’t make me make it for you.”
Paul was silent.
“That’s all for now,” I finished.
He sat there for a few moments and then he nodded curtly. I watch him rise from the chair and stiffly walk out of my office, leaving the door halfway open.
Once he was gone from my sight, I exhaled at the same point I laughed. It was shaky and strained, because a tiny part of me couldn’t believe I’d actually done that.
I didn’t just stand up for myself and my decisions, I delivered an epic verbal bitch slap. I sort of wanted to pat myself on the back.
Screw patting myself on the pack.
I was going to eat a plate of cheese fries tonight.